


Fast Learner

by lolobean



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Fingering, M/M, Mech porn, Optimus talks dirty, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Spike and Valve, Sticky Sex, Sweet robot lovin'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 02:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lolobean/pseuds/lolobean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Optimus Prime just returned from a long patrol of multiple abandoned energon mines. However, the point of this fanfiction is shameless nasty interfacing, and these two do it quite well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good End

**Author's Note:**

> So there's two versions of this fanfiction: one contains the actual ending while the other contains an ending my roommates wrote for me while I walked the floor of a convention at which I volunteer, and foolishly left my laptop open. Hopefully you enjoy both as much as I did.

Groans and grunts flowed through the rippling heat of the berthroom, the sounds of heavy venting and even soft chuckling intermingled.

Optimus Prime was looming over Ratchet, between his spread, white-armored legs, and although he was the one treating his medic lover to a good interfacing, the Prime was the one making the most noise.

He was all but trapped. His thick spike was stuck inside Ratchet's valve, and a grin played on the smaller bot's face as his calipers clenched down, making his leader cry out in pleasure. Not only could he not escape, but he also couldn't move. As Optimus' spike was helplessly enclosed inside that ever-tight channel, calipers squeezed and nodes shifted, working the too-pressurized spike in a top-down rippling motion. Each wave of Ratchet's inner walls made the Prime groan, his backstruts spasmodically jerking.

“Where did you--” Optimus began, but was cut off as he was squeezed even harder, tossing his head back and releasing a bark of surprise.

“Learn to do this?” Ratchet asked with a lazy smirk, shuttering his optics briefly as he fought to maintain the pressure. Mercifully, he relaxed just a little, but not enough to let the Prime move. Said Prime let out a vent of relief, his expressive eyebrow plates arched upward. “I...I have to do something while you're out on long missions, Optimus. You can't just leave your mate here by himself; he gets up to things.”

Ratchet's grin had turned into an almost thoughtful frown, but it was mostly a look of lusty concentration. He knitted his browplates and focused on rippling the inner walls of his valve again, finally opening his shielded optics to stare up at the much larger bot.

Gasping for air and shuttering his optics multiple times to try and regain his composure, Optimus stared down at his partner, his jaw slack as he vented. “Let me move!” he grunted, trying to thrust down into that tight orifice. He budged a little, sweet, wet friction letting him sink in just a little deeper, and he almost felt triumphant when Ratchet moaned outright.

However, the calipers clenched _harder_ once more, making the last Prime toss his head back, the queued moan instead turning into a shout of static binary.

One of Ratchet's favorite things was to watch the ever-composed Autobot come completely undone; to writhe and quake at his mercy, to make noises he would never make were it not for the medic. It almost made him power-hungry, but he knew that no matter what, Optimus really wasn't the dominant one in their relationship. He was almost, in a way, too innocent, although he had the wisdom of the Matrix deep in his spark. The Matrix couldn't teach a bot about dirty lovemaking.

And that's where Ratchet came in...bringing a little sin to the table. As much chaos the often ornery old medic could, of course. Besides, it was more exciting when he allowed his rebellious berthside nature and his kinks to stay deeply hidden.

The medic rolled his hips as a little reward for the larger bot, and he relished in the whimper that resulted above him. It was amazing how such a huge, imposing fighting machine could make those sounds of desperation.

Electricity lanced between them, Optimus' servos leaving dents in Ratchet's pelvic plating as he tried his best to get a little more friction. Ratchet finally relaxed a fraction more, but he wasn't prepared for the sudden onslaught of jackhammering thrusts that would result.

“Optimus!!” Ratchet yelled, grabbing the larger mech by the shoulders. “ _Primus...!_ ”

“Your turn,” that deep, thrumming voice sounded into one of the medic's audials before grabbing the smaller bot by the waist and drilling into him, the sound of metal on metal accompanied by the messy squelching of Optimus' thick rod entering and exiting the still-tight valve.

Ratchet was a bundle of exposed neural net as he all but shrieked, his optics and vocalizer shorting out. He finally reset both and stared up at his beloved bot, and the medic couldn't say that he didn't absolutely love the Prime's version of payback. The thick spike scraped over the electrodes inside the vice-like channel, and static built up, drawing Ratchet like a spring. Ratchet had already been pretty close—his little trick didn't drive _only_ his partner crazy-- and it didn't help that Optimus was hitting his ceiling node with practiced precision.

The heat in Ratchet's tanks came to a boiling point and the elder bot arched up, tossing his head back against the berth and letting out a roar of completion. His lubricants seeped out around Optimus' pistoning spike, and Ratchet was reduced to a trembling heap of cybermetal, his surging optics rolling back as his vocalizer finally shut off. All he could do was grope blindly at the Prime, and ended up hooking his hands clumsily against his windshield.

With a surly grunt, the Prime pressed his face into Ratchet's shoulder, muffling the low, thrumming groans as he met his own end. Toppling messily over the edge, transfluid filled the smaller mech to the point of overflow, their mixed substances dripping down onto the surface of the berth beneath them.

Venting hard, both their engines roaring, they attempted to cycle down once they had rode the final waves of pleasure. But instead of pulling out and rolling over as Optimus tended to do, he stayed firmly inside the medic, leaning down to gently kiss his mouth.

Ratchet reached up with a broad servo to brace it behind his lover's helm, deepening the kiss, glossa lancing out to tease lipplates. Letting go, the medic gasped, leering up at the other bot.

“I'm not going to be able to walk straight for a week, Optimus,” he tried to scold, but the smile on his face betrayed his tone.

“All the more reason for you to take a week-long break from your efforts, old friend,” the Prime responded with a cheeky, tiny smile, delivering unto the medic a sweet little kiss. “I could give you more reasons.”

“Like wha--” Ratchet began, but felt Optimus shift against him, a slight hump making the plating of their pelvises whine. “What has gotten into you?” Ratchet laughed, resting back and folding a servo over his own face.

Characteristically silent, Optimus rocked his lips fluidly against the medic's, pressing chaste little kisses against his mouth and cheeks. Leaning up a touch, he wrapped his lips around the tip of a chevron, making Ratchet tremble beneath the formidable frame above him.

“Your spike,” Optimus grunted simply, palming over the portion of Ratchet's plating that concealed it. It registered as hot to the touch, and the larger bot couldn't help but grin minutely.

As if on command, said spike jutted from its housing as soon as it slid open, stabbing into Optimus' abdomen with a soft 'clank'. At that, Ratchet laughed. It registered as absolutely hilarious in his post-coitus state.

Pausing in his ministrations, Optimus took a moment to admire his mate as he burst into fits of laughter, and even allowed himself to chuckle, deep and brief. Instead of letting the medic continue to laugh himself into an early grave, he leaned down and took his mouth in a searing kiss, sliding his glossa past open lipplates.

Ratchet continued to chuckle for a short time, even as his intake was invaded, but he gave in eventually, caressing down the Prime's face with gentle, deft servos.

They didn't need words after that. Optimus pulled away, staring down into Autobot blue with his own, that tiny grin bowing his lips just so. As he gazed down at the other bot, he pulled out of him, watching with a guilty sort of satisfaction as Ratchet frowned, looking absolutely cheated.

“So you're going to make me hard as a diamond and then you're going to stop? Just like that?” he whined openly, frustratedly dropping his hands against the berth, his fists landing firmly against the surface.

“On the contrary,” Optimus purred, lifting himself up onto his knees and moving so that he was straddling the medic. Spreading his own servos to smooth over the ambulance's root frame, he found transformation seams and gaps in the plating that he touched and picked to his contentment. All the while Ratchet's temper cooled, and the medic watched the Prime move with mild curiosity.

Then, Optimus' array panel snapped open, revealing his dripping, clenching valve. A droplet of lubricant fell directly onto Ratchet's spike, the hot fluid trickling down the phallus prompting a low moan.

“Optimus,” he whispered, lifting his servos up to strong, trim hips, admiring the awkward, lanky form above him. The former archivist did not look like a fighter, but he had proved himself a formidable adversary both in battle and in the berth.

As before, the Prime was silent, save for his thrumming engine and overclocked vents. He gently guided one of his mate's hands from his hip to the gap between his legs, hoping that the medic would get the idea...and so he did, turning his servo so that it was palm-up, slipping his middle digit around the rim of the orifice.

Optimus released a honeyed moan, deep and full of longing as he was teased. He was plotting what he would do if Ratchet continued the gentle touches, and his thoughts were momentarily cut off when the deft hand between his legs nudged at a sensitive exterior node.

The Prime hissed through gritted denta, rutting his hips down against that hand. He felt that center digit slip just barely into his valve, and then it flitted away. Narrowed blue eyes shuttered, and Optimus directed his attention to the face of the bot beneath him, and all but leered when he found a mischievous little grin.

“Ratchet,” he muttered low in warning, grabbing his wrist and bringing it up closer between his legs.

“Is your patience wearing thin, Optimus?” Ratchet whispered under his breath, finally inserting that thick, blunt digit into his lover's form. He loved the way those calipers clenched down, squeezing his finger tight and sucking it in further, registering little zaps of charge from within, generated by the nodes lining the walls. The movement was rewarded by a breathy little grunt, and then that damned servo moved away again!

Clenching his jaw, Optimus grabbed his lover's hand and ripped it away, tired of being teased. The evening had consisted mostly of Ratchet getting all the fun out of him, and it was time that the Prime gave the good doctor a taste of his own medicine.

Grabbing both of Ratchet's servos and holding them tight to trap them, the red and blue Autobot started lowering himself over the thick spike beneath him, all the while staring down into Ratchet's face.

“Optimus!” he groaned, trying to tug his hands away as that too-tight heat smothered his hardware. He choked out a static-tinged moan, rolling his hips up just a little...and the motion apparently prompted the Prime to slam his hips downward, impaling himself on the throbbing cyber-organ.

That, in turn, elicited a yell of surprise, and Ratchet squeezed his lover's hands as the medic squirmed beneath the sheer weight of his mate. He wasn't given any time to adjust when suddenly his trick was being used against him, and he felt suffocating waves of rippling cybermetal squeezing him into oblivion.

“ _Optimus!!_ ” he yelled, arching his back as his eyes rolled back into his head, his intake hanging open and emitting helpless keens and groans of pure pleasure. It almost hurt, how good it felt, and it was evident that his lover was a very, very fast learner.

A strained smile had appeared on Optimus' faceplates as he watched the good doctor get phase two of his payback, relishing in the vision of the handsome, older bot acting like a sex-crazed greenhorn. He could feel his spike pulsing inside him, sending electrical current through his entire neural net, and it felt amazing. Eventually, Optimus tossed his head back and slowly started rolling his hips in gentle gyrating motions, sweetly juxtaposed against the overload-depriving vacuum that was his valve.

Optimus found it odd that he was having these feelings; feelings that he hadn't experienced even while he was Orion Pax. He wanted to lean down and tell Ratchet exactly what the thought about his teasing earlier, wanted to see the look on his face while he said an assortment of vulgar things...

And so he did. Leaning down, the Autobot leader continued rolling his hips, finally letting up a little bit on the poor, slick spike inside him, and hovered his mouth over one of the medic's audials.

“Am I as tight as you are, Ratchet?” he whispered, accentuating his speech with a clenching of his valve, moaning quietly alongside the bark of surprise that escaped his lover's vocalizer. “You can barely get cool air into you, can you not? You are overheating. Your spike...your spike is like fire,” he inhaled, his own vent fans rattling to a higher revolution.

Moving his helm away, Optimus glanced to see the medic's face and nearly laughed outright at the look of disbelief that met his own grin. Cyan eyes were wide and round, and if the smaller Autobot could blush, he'd be bright blue with energon.

Wiggling one of his hands free while the Prime was distracted, he grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a searing kiss, his glossa darting into that smiling mouth and invading. The medic took the opportunity to thrust firmly up into that searing hot valve, and both of their vocalizers let out long, low moans, until Ratchet's shorted out. It reset with a few clicks and, getting his other servo free from its captor, he grabbed both of Optimus' strong hips and pulled him down hard against his lap.

“You are tight, Optimus! So tight! Nngh, Primus, you are such a fast learner,” Ratchet voiced his earlier opinion, a grin playing on his face when the bot above him let out a vibrating moan, his engine roaring. Their fields intermingled in lusty, passionate tendrils, and static electricity zapped from surface to surface where their pelvic armor remained connected. “Ahh, I've missed you!”

Removing a servo from his hip, the medic wrapped his deft fingers around Optimus' re-pressurized spike, and started pumping it in time with his own rolling hips, which had gained an almost frantic momentum. Metal screeched and clanged as Ratchet urgently sought release, staring up into beautiful, wise, and devious blue optics.

All the while the semi's ceiling node was being absolutely _slammed_ , Optimus swore he'd reached millions of micro-overloads in the past few minutes, but none of them compared to the one that took him by absolute surprise when Ratchet hit his ceiling node straight on, coupled by a squeeze of his spike...

A roar burst from his intake as his backstruts went rigid and his head tossed back, the jet engines on his back turning on and revving noisily, heat washing over the CMO's pinned legs. Transfluid burst from the tip of his spike, lubricating Ratchet's hand and, unfortunately, his armor, coating the pristine white and orange paint with a thick layer of liquid. His valve clenched in the meantime, tightly squeezing the spike within as lubricant paved the way for sweet, smooth penetration.

The sight of his beloved's overload made the ambulance wail, his lipplates exposing clenched denta as he fought the urge to just keep yelling, his own overload shocking his system and making his optics go offline. He ejaculated deep inside the other bot, transfluid seeping out and onto his pelvic armor. Electricity shot between their bodies and ozone filled the air, evidence of their bonding wafting about, and in that moment they were sure that everyone knew. How could they not with all the noise they'd made?

It seemed like both of their climaxes--despite only lasting a few moments--lasted a good ten minutes, and they were both reduced to shaking, rattling piles of metal. Both parties had to reset their vocalizers and optics, and once Ratchet's were back on, he stared up at the Prime, drawing in a shaky vent.

“What has gotten into you?” he laughed, smoothing his servos apologetically down dented hips.

“You, old friend. Obviously,” Optimus replied with a small grin, lifting himself up and off the other Autobot. Fluid tricked down his inner legs, but he didn't much care, opting to roll over and lay on his side next to his mate. He smoothed a hand over his chest and made a bit of a face at the slick feel of his transfluid, but continued petting regardless.

“No, Optimus... I've never heard you say anything like that in my life,” he sighed, reaching out to run his fingers over a cheek vent, staring into his leader's eyes. There was a hiss as his spike depressurized, and Optimus followed suit.

“It would be wise to not expect it to happen again, Ratchet. Your teasing me...did something,” he mentioned, a lazy smile playing on his features. “And if it does happen again, well...I would rather it be a surprise for you.”

“Fiend,” Ratchet whispered, slowly shuttering his optics, his lipplates displaying a lazy, contented smile.

“I love you,” Optimus rumbled, and the medic glanced up at him.

“... And I love you, Optimus,” Ratchet replied, leaning forward to tenderly kiss his leader, his friend, his lover.

The Autobot commander responded with a squeeze of a servo to the CMO's waist, and they squirmed closer together, Ratchet rolling onto his front while Optimus half-lay on him, their helms as close together as they could get with the awkward construction of their frames. They weren't made for cuddling, that was certain, but they had their ways of making it work.

 


	2. Silent Hill Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is nothing different about this chapter from the first one except the ending, but for the sake of continuity, I'm gonna post the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Silent Hill ending of Fast Learner. I suggest you scroll down if you've already read it.

Groans and grunts flowed through the rippling heat of the berthroom, the sounds of heavy venting and even soft chuckling intermingled.

Optimus Prime was looming over Ratchet, between his spread, white-armored legs, and although he was the one treating his medic lover to a good interfacing, the Prime was the one making the most noise.

He was all but trapped. His thick spike was stuck inside Ratchet's valve, and a grin played on the smaller bot's face as his calipers clenched down, making his leader cry out in pleasure. Not only could he not escape, but he also couldn't move. As Optimus' spike was helplessly enclosed inside that ever-tight channel, calipers squeezed and nodes shifted, working the too-pressurized spike in a top-down rippling motion. Each wave of Ratchet's inner walls made the Prime groan, his backstruts spasmodically jerking.

“Where did you--” Optimus began, but was cut off as he was squeezed even harder, tossing his head back and releasing a bark of surprise.

“Learn to do this?” Ratchet asked with a lazy smirk, shuttering his optics briefly as he fought to maintain the pressure. Mercifully, he relaxed just a little, but not enough to let the Prime move. Said Prime let out a vent of relief, his expressive eyebrow plates arched upward. “I...I have to do something while you're out on long missions, Optimus. You can't just leave your mate here by himself; he gets up to things.”

Ratchet's grin had turned into an almost thoughtful frown, but it was mostly a look of lusty concentration. He knitted his browplates and focused on rippling the inner walls of his valve again, finally opening his shielded optics to stare up at the much larger bot.

Gasping for air and shuttering his optics multiple times to try and regain his composure, Optimus stared down at his partner, his jaw slack as he vented. “Let me move!” he grunted, trying to thrust down into that tight orifice. He budged a little, sweet, wet friction letting him sink in just a little deeper, and he almost felt triumphant when Ratchet moaned outright.

However, the calipers clenched _harder_ once more, making the last Prime toss his head back, the queued moan instead turning into a shout of static binary.

One of Ratchet's favorite things was to watch the ever-composed Autobot come completely undone; to writhe and quake at his mercy, to make noises he would never make were it not for the medic. It almost made him power-hungry, but he knew that no matter what, Optimus really wasn't the dominant one in their relationship. He was almost, in a way, too innocent, although he had the wisdom of the Matrix deep in his spark. The Matrix couldn't teach a bot about dirty lovemaking.

And that's where Ratchet came in...bringing a little sin to the table. As much chaos the often ornery old medic could, of course. Besides, it was more exciting when he allowed his rebellious berthside nature and his kinks to stay deeply hidden.

The medic rolled his hips as a little reward for the larger bot, and he relished in the whimper that resulted above him. It was amazing how such a huge, imposing fighting machine could make those sounds of desperation.

Electricity lanced between them, Optimus' servos leaving dents in Ratchet's pelvic plating as he tried his best to get a little more friction. Ratchet finally relaxed a fraction more, but he wasn't prepared for the sudden onslaught of jackhammering thrusts that would result.

“Optimus!!” Ratchet yelled, grabbing the larger mech by the shoulders. “ _Primus...!_ ”

“Your turn,” that deep, thrumming voice sounded into one of the medic's audials before grabbing the smaller bot by the waist and drilling into him, the sound of metal on metal accompanied by the messy squelching of Optimus' thick rod entering and exiting the still-tight valve.

Ratchet was a bundle of exposed neural net as he all but shrieked, his optics and vocalizer shorting out. He finally reset both and stared up at his beloved bot, and the medic couldn't say that he didn't absolutely love the Prime's version of payback. The thick spike scraped over the electrodes inside the vice-like channel, and static built up, drawing Ratchet like a spring. Ratchet had already been pretty close—his little trick didn't drive _only_ his partner crazy-- and it didn't help that Optimus was hitting his ceiling node with practiced precision.

The heat in Ratchet's tanks came to a boiling point and the elder bot arched up, tossing his head back against the berth and letting out a roar of completion. His lubricants seeped out around Optimus' pistoning spike, and Ratchet was reduced to a trembling heap of cybermetal, his surging optics rolling back as his vocalizer finally shut off. All he could do was grope blindly at the Prime, and ended up hooking his hands clumsily against his windshield.

With a surly grunt, the Prime pressed his face into Ratchet's shoulder, muffling the low, thrumming groans as he met his own end. Toppling messily over the edge, transfluid filled the smaller mech to the point of overflow, their mixed substances dripping down onto the surface of the berth beneath them.

Venting hard, both their engines roaring, they attempted to cycle down once they had rode the final waves of pleasure. But instead of pulling out and rolling over as Optimus tended to do, he stayed firmly inside the medic, leaning down to gently kiss his mouth.

Ratchet reached up with a broad servo to brace it behind his lover's helm, deepening the kiss, glossa lancing out to tease lipplates. Letting go, the medic gasped, leering up at the other bot.

“I'm not going to be able to walk straight for a week, Optimus,” he tried to scold, but the smile on his face betrayed his tone.

“All the more reason for you to take a week-long break from your efforts, old friend,” the Prime responded with a cheeky, tiny smile, delivering unto the medic a sweet little kiss. “I could give you more reasons.”

“Like wha--” Ratchet began, but felt Optimus shift against him, a slight hump making the plating of their pelvises whine. “What has gotten into you?” Ratchet laughed, resting back and folding a servo over his own face.

Characteristically silent, Optimus rocked his lips fluidly against the medic's, pressing chaste little kisses against his mouth and cheeks. Leaning up a touch, he wrapped his lips around the tip of a chevron, making Ratchet tremble beneath the formidable frame above him.

“Your spike,” Optimus grunted simply, palming over the portion of Ratchet's plating that concealed it. It registered as hot to the touch, and the larger bot couldn't help but grin minutely.

As if on command, said spike jutted from its housing as soon as it slid open, stabbing into Optimus' abdomen with a soft 'clank'. At that, Ratchet laughed. It registered as absolutely hilarious in his post-coitus state.

Pausing in his ministrations, Optimus took a moment to admire his mate as he burst into fits of laughter, and even allowed himself to chuckle, deep and brief. Instead of letting the medic continue to laugh himself into an early grave, he leaned down and took his mouth in a searing kiss, sliding his glossa past open lipplates.

Ratchet continued to chuckle for a short time, even as his intake was invaded, but he gave in eventually, caressing down the Prime's face with gentle, deft servos.

They didn't need words after that. Optimus pulled away, staring down into Autobot blue with his own, that tiny grin bowing his lips just so. As he gazed down at the other bot, he pulled out of him, watching with a guilty sort of satisfaction as Ratchet frowned, looking absolutely cheated.

“So you're going to make me hard as a diamond and then you're going to stop? Just like that?” he whined openly, frustratedly dropping his hands against the berth, his fists landing firmly against the surface.

“On the contrary,” Optimus purred, lifting himself up onto his knees and moving so that he was straddling the medic. Spreading his own servos to smooth over the ambulance's root frame, he found transformation seams and gaps in the plating that he touched and picked to his contentment. All the while Ratchet's temper cooled, and the medic watched the Prime move with mild curiosity.

Then, Optimus' array panel snapped open, revealing his dripping, clenching valve. A droplet of lubricant fell directly onto Ratchet's spike, the hot fluid trickling down the phallus prompting a low moan.

“Optimus,” he whispered, lifting his servos up to strong, trim hips, admiring the awkward, lanky form above him. The former archivist did not look like a fighter, but he had proved himself a formidable adversary both in battle and in the berth.

As before, the Prime was silent, save for his thrumming engine and overclocked vents. He gently guided one of his mate's hands from his hip to the gap between his legs, hoping that the medic would get the idea...and so he did, turning his servo so that it was palm-up, slipping his middle digit around the rim of the orifice.

Optimus released a honeyed moan, deep and full of longing as he was teased. He was plotting what he would do if Ratchet continued the gentle touches, and his thoughts were momentarily cut off when the deft hand between his legs nudged at a sensitive exterior node.

The Prime hissed through gritted denta, rutting his hips down against that hand. He felt that center digit slip just barely into his valve, and then it flitted away. Narrowed blue eyes shuttered, and Optimus directed his attention to the face of the bot beneath him, and all but leered when he found a mischievous little grin.

“Ratchet,” he muttered low in warning, grabbing his wrist and bringing it up closer between his legs.

“Is your patience wearing thin, Optimus?” Ratchet whispered under his breath, finally inserting that thick, blunt digit into his lover's form. He loved the way those calipers clenched down, squeezing his finger tight and sucking it in further, registering little zaps of charge from within, generated by the nodes lining the walls. The movement was rewarded by a breathy little grunt, and then that damned servo moved away again!

Clenching his jaw, Optimus grabbed his lover's hand and ripped it away, tired of being teased. The evening had consisted mostly of Ratchet getting all the fun out of him, and it was time that the Prime gave the good doctor a taste of his own medicine.

Grabbing both of Ratchet's servos and holding them tight to trap them, the red and blue Autobot started lowering himself over the thick spike beneath him, all the while staring down into Ratchet's face.

“Optimus!” he groaned, trying to tug his hands away as that too-tight heat smothered his hardware. He choked out a static-tinged moan, rolling his hips up just a little...and the motion apparently prompted the Prime to slam his hips downward, impaling himself on the throbbing cyber-organ.

That, in turn, elicited a yell of surprise, and Ratchet squeezed his lover's hands as the medic squirmed beneath the sheer weight of his mate. He wasn't given any time to adjust when suddenly his trick was being used against him, and he felt suffocating waves of rippling cybermetal squeezing him into oblivion.

“ _Optimus!!_ ” he yelled, arching his back as his eyes rolled back into his head, his intake hanging open and emitting helpless keens and groans of pure pleasure. It almost hurt, how good it felt, and it was evident that his lover was a very, very fast learner.

A strained smile had appeared on Optimus' faceplates as he watched the good doctor get phase two of his payback, relishing in the vision of the handsome, older bot acting like a sex-crazed greenhorn. He could feel his spike pulsing inside him, sending electrical current through his entire neural net, and it felt amazing. Eventually, Optimus tossed his head back and slowly started rolling his hips in gentle gyrating motions, sweetly juxtaposed against the overload-depriving vacuum that was his valve.

Optimus found it odd that he was having these feelings; feelings that he hadn't experienced even while he was Orion Pax. He wanted to lean down and tell Ratchet exactly what the thought about his teasing earlier, wanted to see the look on his face while he said an assortment of vulgar things...

And so he did. Leaning down, the Autobot leader continued rolling his hips, finally letting up a little bit on the poor, slick spike inside him, and hovered his mouth over one of the medic's audials.

“Am I as tight as you are, Ratchet?” he whispered, accentuating his speech with a clenching of his valve, moaning quietly alongside the bark of surprise that escaped his lover's vocalizer. “You can barely get cool air into you, can you not? You are overheating. Your spike...your spike is like fire,” he inhaled, his own vent fans rattling to a higher revolution.

Moving his helm away, Optimus glanced to see the medic's face and nearly laughed outright at the look of disbelief that met his own grin. Cyan eyes were wide and round, and if the smaller Autobot could blush, he'd be bright blue with energon.

Wiggling one of his hands free while the Prime was distracted, he grabbed the back of his head and pulled him in for a searing kiss, his glossa darting into that smiling mouth and invading. The medic took the opportunity to thrust firmly up into that searing hot valve, and both of their vocalizers let out long, low moans, until Ratchet's shorted out. It reset with a few clicks and, getting his other servo free from its captor, he grabbed both of Optimus' strong hips and pulled him down hard against his lap.

“You are tight, Optimus! So tight! Nngh, Primus, you are such a fast learner,” Ratchet voiced his earlier opinion, a grin playing on his face when the bot above him let out a vibrating moan, his engine roaring. Their fields intermingled in lusty, passionate tendrils, and static electricity zapped from surface to surface where their pelvic armor remained connected. “Ahh, I've missed you!”

Removing a servo from his hip, the medic wrapped his deft fingers around Optimus' re-pressurized spike, and started pumping it in time with his own rolling hips, which had gained an almost frantic momentum. Metal screeched and clanged as Ratchet urgently sought release, staring up into beautiful, wise, and devious blue optics.

All the while the semi's ceiling node was being absolutely _slammed_ , Optimus swore he'd reached millions of micro-overloads in the past few minutes, but none of them compared to the one that took him by absolute surprise when Ratchet hit his ceiling node straight on, coupled by a squeeze of his spike...

A roar burst from his intake as his backstruts went rigid and his head tossed back, the jet engines on his back turning on and revving noisily, heat washing over the CMO's pinned legs. Transfluid burst from the tip of his spike, lubricating Ratchet's hand and, unfortunately, his armor, coating the pristine white and orange paint with a thick layer of liquid. His valve clenched in the meantime, tightly squeezing the spike within as lubricant paved the way for sweet, smooth penetration.

The sight of his beloved's overload made the ambulance wail, his lipplates exposing clenched denta as he fought the urge to just keep yelling, his own overload shocking his system and making his optics go offline. He ejaculated deep inside the other bot, transfluid seeping out and onto his pelvic armor. Electricity shot between their bodies and ozone filled the air, evidence of their bonding wafting about, and in that moment they were sure that everyone knew. How could they not with all the noise they'd made?

It seemed like both of their climaxes--despite only lasting a few moments--lasted a good ten minutes, and they were both reduced to shaking, rattling piles of metal. Both parties had to reset their vocalizers and optics, and once Ratchet's were back on, he stared up at the Prime, drawing in a shaky vent.

“What has gotten into you?” he laughed, smoothing his servos apologetically down dented hips.

“You, old friend. Obviously,” Optimus replied with a small grin, lifting himself up and off the other Autobot. Fluid tricked down his inner legs, but he didn't much care, opting to roll over and lay on his side next to his mate. He smoothed a hand over his chest and made a bit of a face at the slick feel of his transfluid, but continued petting regardless.

“No, Optimus... I've never heard you say anything like that in my life,” he sighed, reaching out to run his fingers over a cheek vent, staring into his leader's eyes. There was a hiss as his spike depressurized, and Optimus followed suit.

“It would be wise to not expect it to happen again, Ratchet. Your teasing me...did something,” he mentioned, a lazy smile playing on his features. “And if it does happen again, well...I would rather it be a surprise for you.”

“Fiend,” Ratchet whispered, shutting his optics and preparing to rest after such an astounding 'Crashing of the Planes.'

As Optimus drifted off to sleep, he slipped into a world built entirely of Cybertronian sweets; blue and shimmering as far as the optics could see. Statues of delicious AutoButts graced the sweet landscape, and Ratchet fountains glistened in the dusk light. Suddenly filled with boundless joy, the prime skipped jovially down the candy lanes smashing through rows and rows of enormous robot butts with reckless abandon.

With a vigorous leap, and despite the laws of physics and gravity, the Autobot soared into the air. Among the cotton-candy-clouds, a small platform appeared before him. Upon it, a reclining Ratchet reposed along an elegant chaise lounge drapped in not but an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny, azure energon bikini (that he wore for the first time today).

“Damn.” Optimus observed, pleased by what lay before him.

Ratchet winked suggestively, “I'm hard like a diamond.”

 

 

And thus, the Dew was done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you happy now? Do you feel enlightened? You should.


End file.
